


five more minutes

by architecture_in_f1ll0ry



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, because I said so, they're married and life is grand, viren wins au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry
Summary: When you're king, you can get out of bed whenever you want.
Relationships: Aaravos/Viren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	five more minutes

**Author's Note:**

> in which I continue giving my babies the blissful future they deserve since the show definitely won't.

Viren wakes, as always, in a silken cloud of hair. 

He presses a sleepy smile into it, inhaling deeply. It’s late morning; the gossamer curtains do nothing to dim the warm yellow light flooding their bedchamber, as if tipped and poured from the sun directly into the top of the Storm Spire. Viren should get up, check in on his council, hear the latest reports, maybe send a message to Claudia to receive word of Lesser Xadia. 

Aaravos sighs softly as he shifts in his sleep, half-turning in Viren’s embrace to lie on his back, chest rising and falling slowly. His face is so open and guileless in this level of deep repose, and Viren lets his half-formed ruminations slip away as he stares, moving up to rest an elbow on his pillow so he can better admire the beautifully contained cosmos flung across his husband's cheeks and nose, his slightly parted lips, the shorter wisps of hair that have fallen into his face. They’re momentarily displaced on his next exhale before settling back down again—which must tickle, judging by the way Aaravos' nose twitches slightly, brows furrowing.

Of course, if there were any immediate crises, someone would have come to wake Viren by now. The last rebellion was successfully quelled over six months ago, and the loyalists were either eliminated or driven underground, and thus a problem for Viren to deal with another day. For now, the united kingdoms of Xadia are peaceful and prosperous—a new Golden Age, the history books will call it, Aaravos has assured him, many times—and so it will remain for a few moments longer. 

Viren leans in, brushing a hand down Aaravos’ bare chest while pressing a kiss to his temple. Aaravos hums and stirs as Viren moves down to peck his cheek, and then turns to catch the next one on his mouth. Viren smiles into the kiss as Aaravos cards his fingers through his hair, sweeping a hand down his neck and shoulder, continuing down the length of his arm until their fingers are laced together. He's always like this first thing in the morning, so sweetly affectionate, a marked contrast from his usual smug and domineering persona, as if it requires a few hours to kick in with each new day. Viren loves both versions equally, though, so he isn’t complaining.

“Your hair is getting long,” Viren murmurs against his mouth, pulling away so he can brush it aside, tuck it behind a pointed ear. Aaravos gives a noncommittal hum, turning and resettling on top of Viren, bringing their joined hands up above his head, smirking when the motion just makes his own hair spill over his shoulders again, curtaining Viren’s face.

“So cut it,” he responds lightly, kissing the corner of Viren’s mouth, then his chin, then up the rise of his jaw.

“We have servants for that.” They've had this conversation before.

“I prefer when you do it.” Aaravos rubs his nose against Viren’s, an adorably innocent gesture that's somewhat undercut by his hand sneaking between their bodies to close around Viren’s half hard cock, tugging it lazily. 

Viren opens his legs wider and pushes up into the touch with a quiet moan, wrapping an arm around Aaravos’ broad back. “Okay, fine.”

Satisfied, Aaravos’ mouth finds his once more, and Viren’s heart stutters at the unhurried ardor of their kisses, breath quickening as he’s stroked to full hardness, Aaravos’ thumb dragging through the moisture leaking from the tip. He always marvels at this, at how quickly his head will start to spin when Aaravos touches him, as if every time were the first. 

But no, even _better_ than the first, because they have all of the trust and intimate knowledge of each other's bodies that they lacked that fateful night in the cave, years ago. Now, Aaravos knows that Viren won’t be able to contain his sharp hiss at a glancing touch beneath the sensitive skin of his balls; likewise, Viren knows that he can quickly elicit full-body shivers from Aaravos when he scritches the elf’s scalp just around the base of his horns (however strongly Aaravos objects to the word _scritches_ ). 

“I want you,” Aaravos breathes, and Viren nods, swallowing thickly as Aaravos prepares him, a reversal of the night before, but that’s no issue. No one is here to see them, to witness the king arching up with a gasp as he’s slowly fingered open. Or the way Aaravos wraps a leg around his waist before sliding into him with a low groan and then stilling, pressing their foreheads together, letting their breaths mingle.

Viren takes a moment to adjust, the slight ache quickly giving way to a deep, mounting pleasure. He tilts up his chin to capture Aaravos’ lips in a needy kiss, and Aaravos returns it tenfold, sliding his tongue into Viren’s mouth as he sets up a rocking, steady rhythm, hips rolling slowly. At this speed, it’s the most delicious agony: the slippery drag of Aaravos’ thick cock fucking him so tenderly, each stroke stimulating the bundle of nerves deep inside that make him clutch Aaravos closer, keening into the kiss. Aaravos growls low in his chest as Viren clenches suddenly, his orgasm taking him by surprise, his untouched cock spurting between them. And then Aaravos is sliding his fingers into Viren’s hair, pressing himself inside more insistently, making the bedsprings groan as he desperately chases his own release.

He comes inside Viren with a sharp grunt, filling him with warmth, and it’s only then that Viren realizes their fingers are still entwined, now sore from how tightly they’ve been squeezing them together. Aaravos slumps heavily against him, not even bothering to pull out, and Viren can’t find it in himself to care, letting his eyes drift shut as he rubs slow circles into Aaravos’ back, combs the fingers of his other hand through his hair. 

Aaravos hums, content. A gentle breeze drifts in through the window, carrying with it the crisp scent of mountain air.

“I should get up,” Viren mumbles eventually, dangerously close to dozing off again. In response, Aaravos kisses his neck, then scrapes it gently with his teeth, sweeping a thumb over Viren’s cheek.

“Five more minutes, love,” he breathes into the warm skin, followed by another kiss, and then another.

Viren has never been able to say no to him; they both know that. “Five more minutes.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, ily! find me on twitter: @kuviraava


End file.
